


The Lamenting Story of Lust and the Castle in the Forest

by Manya_Kami



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: Alternate Ending for The Madness of Duke Venomania, Fairy Tale Style, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Not A Happy Ending, The Evillious Chronicles - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-30 20:30:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10884369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manya_Kami/pseuds/Manya_Kami
Summary: After all, the duke is just a man.





	The Lamenting Story of Lust and the Castle in the Forest

**Author's Note:**

> I've heard that there are Evillious Chro. novels; I don't read them, and I couldn't be bothered to see if there was some sort of wiki, so I don't know how accurate my portrayals of Mothy's characters are. Nonetheless, the Madness of Duke Douchebag is basically every GakuKai shipper's anthem, so I couldn't NOT use it in a fic.

_Allow me to tell you a story._

_A very lamenting story, but a story nonetheless._

_._

_._

_Our story begins deep, deep in the heart of the dark and dreary forest, where creeper vines toil up the rotting trunks of whispering willow tress, weeping their long, silky hair to the muddy forest floor. For you see, in this forest there lies more than simple trees and the odd crawly critter; in this forest lies - a castle._

_A glamorously beautiful castle, built brick by brick of the finest fabulously shining stone, with turrets as tall as the moon and velvety, courful flags that trail through the murky forest mist on the back of the brisk northern breeze. Now, one might think it a bit peculiar for an awesome castle such as this to be tucked away, seemingly home to no one, deep in the tights cranny of the forest. And oh me oh my, it certainly is peculiar, yes indeed! But ah - it's what lurks inside that's even more peculiar._

_For inside resides a man, and not just any man, mind you. A lavishly beautiful man, with elegantly flowing tresses the colour of soft lavender and eyes that twinkle like amethysts inside a dank, watery cave. His body adorned magnificently with toned, tanned muscle to spare, and a smile more pointed and deadly than cupid's arrow itself. It is not only his features that make this particular man special however; it is his amazing power._

_You see, a great many dozens of years ago, this man was once not so beautiful, in fact, he was rather ugly, if I do say so myself. But on a day in with the tickling wind had gained a strange brewing fierceness from the south, and the baggy clouds heavily much too low in the sky, this very man encountered a demon._

_He shrieked and cried. "Oh please!" Said the man, "Do not eat me! I am much too young to die!"_

_And the demon coarsely snickered. "And? One so ugly as yourself will certainly not amount to much, even once you're older. Why should I not eat you right now? A weak young boy such as you definitely would not be capable of putting up much of a fight."_

_The man suddenly stood, horrendously offended. "How dare you! I shall have you know I'm not that ugly - not in the slightest!"_

_And the demon watched as the man's ears flushed irritatedly  pink with newfound insultedness. And the demon rubbed it's pointed chin as it spoke with a snake-split tongue, grinning wickedly at the man. "I can make you beautiful, you know."_

_"...Really?"_

_Another smirk, and the demon licked its thin, slimy lips. "Of course. I can even give you the power of beautiful romance. I can give you the ability to put anyone, and everyone, under your spell."_

_"...For what price?" The man inquired._

_And the demon cocked its unattractive head, its corn-yellow teeth gleaming hideously in the naked moonlight. "When you die, I may devour you."_

_The man coiled back in on himself. It was a tempting offer, to say the least. But... to be eaten? An excruciatingly terrifying concept indeed. But I life lived without the pleasures that come with romance and beauty... even more terrifying, he decided._

_And the man took the deal, effectively selling his soul and sealing the malicious deal._

_To this day, the man uses and abuses his evil powers, and steals many women from across the country, collecting them like a toymaker would with dolls. His harem is indeed very lovely, in some cases - and in some, not - growing as would a well-watered perennial plant._

_It is said that anyone who dares be brave enough to make the trip that deep into the forest will encounter this castle and this man, and once such an encounter takes place that innocent lost soul may never return to ordinary life._

_So watch out, children._

_Take no steps deep in the forest._

_For you would not want to wind up ensnared in the jaws of one evil man:_

_Duke Sateriasis Venomania._

.

.

.

 

Karchess Crim frowned as the childhood tale was recollected in his mind. His memories were of the crazy old coots who would tell this story, in hopes of keeping the children aware and inherently safe. It, unfortunately, had the opposite affect. What magnificent wonders that had put in the little children's heads! It only added to their curiosity of the forest. Why should not they step foot inside? For if they did they had the chance to see a castle, and meet a magic man - what an awesome experience that would be, indeed!

Of course, today Crim was no longer a child and no longer so foolish as to belief in silly make-belief things such as magic and demons. He did believe the part about stealing the women, though, and that was exactly why he was here.

Not so long ago his wife had gone into the forest, to pick mushrooms. "I will not go so deep in the forest, do not worry." She had promised. Too bad that promise ended up being a load of hogwash in the end.

After a whole day's worth of waiting for return and another day's worth of preparations for his scheme, Crim had decided it was time to finally set foot in the forest himself and snatch his beloved right back from the clutches of that evil, evil man.

This is genius! he thought with proud certainty, as he ran his hands firmly over the ruffles of the gown (originally his wife's own) he had adorned for the sake of his plan. He would disguise himself as a woman, to trick the Duke into taking him into his harem. But because Crim was definitely not a woman, whatever silly 'spells' he might try to use surely would not work. And in that moment - bam! Crim would ram his butcher's knife through and through the man's rotted heart, and he and his wife would travel home in time for supper.

And now, in this very moment, he was very prepared indeed to act out this plan, as he stood in front of the extraordinary Castle Venomania itself.

He was not afraid. He had no reason to be so. After all, the castle is just a structure, and the duke is just a man.

With one last huff of breath to himself he extended a delicately timid hand outward, and surprisingly, pushed open the unlock castle door. He inhaled again, and, speaking in a practiced falsetto asked into the empty, open air, "H-Hello? Might anyone be at home...?"

No response.

Crim batted at the door again, opening it wider so that he may step inside, into the dark, hollow corridor of the castle. He jumped and almost let out a horribly manly scream when he was fully inside and the door suddenly slammed shut behind him, with seemingly no one there to push it closed in the first place.

Shyly, gently, _gently_ Crim stepped another foot outward, another, then another, there you go, you've got it, further and further into the stringy shadows of the Castle depths. He spoke again, "Hello?"

And by joe, he jumped again when he got a response this time. "Come in, come in. All are welcome here." The sound slithered through the air on wings of buttermilk, wrapping itself around Crim tightly and pulling him in, in closer towards its owner. "No need to be so shy."

There! There! In a pool of light stretching in from the exquisite painted glass window on the ceiling, sitting atop a velvet throne and surrounded by plush, gentle harem girls - sat the wicked Duke Venomania himself.

Crim swallowed hard. The story the old coots told really didn't do his beauty any justice. His skin and bone structure were so fine and precise one might've thought he were a statue - and his hair! Draped across the back of his throne like an extravagant cape, and the colour of summertime thistles. His eyes shot bullets, out from the light in with he sat and into the shadows where Crim stood, skewering him in place as the Duke's harsh gaze grew more and more intense, until he thought he was melting.

And then, and _then_ , the Duke suddenly stood, slow and powerfully executed, at his full height, and stepping down from his throne, positively intimidating. "Come," he practically sang, he words drifting smoothly and sleepily through the languid air. "let us dance in this harem."

As elegantly as he could, Crim crept closer and closer to the man, until he finally found himself wrapped under the precious comfort of the man's embrace, with one of the Duke's large, firm hands resting on his hip, and the other toying with the golden-yellow hair of the faux wig he'd been wearing.

Acutely aware of the cool metal knife inside his sleeve, Crim shakingly moved subtly, slowly, _slowly, so that the Duke does not notice_ , sliding the despicably pointed object out and into the open air.

And - quick, quick, we mustn't make any mistake here, in the climax of the story! Quick, quick, in a sudden intense whirl Crim yanked off the starchy wig, revealing himself and raised the knife to take deadly aim. One, two, through and through and - yes! Dizzy and foggy-eyed, Crim noted when his forceful thrust was stopped with a wall of retaliated force, which could only mean - aha! Success! A clean drive, slice-and-dice, through the heart of the Duke!

.

.

Miasma purple eyes blown wide and split into crystal fractals with shell-shock, Venomania stared down at the young woman  - no, man  - who had attempted on his life. Oh me, oh my, what kind of chaotic good is this? His thick-skinned fingers wrapped firmly around the steel blade, and blood drip, drip, dropped, messily onto the floor.

It had happened so frighteningly quick; a lightning bolt of gold and blue and then crash! A weapon of potential murder swung in tunnel-vision sight straight on a line to his core. Venomania breathed harshly. A second, even a _fraction_ of a second later and it would have cut clean through, destroying his body as his collapsed soul flew swift and true into the waiting, hungered belly of the demon on the southern side of Hell.

The smaller, blue-haired man was quivering with the thrill of his supposed kill, his head swinging crazily to and fro, left to right as his clouded vision aimed downwards. Despite this, Venomania could still feel the strength stone-stuck in the man's arm, the power of the drive on the way to his heart  still remaining. Soon enough he would realize that his attempt ended without success, and with him iron gripping his weapon still he would surely try again, that time more focused on seeing it all the way through. Venomania had to act fast if he did not wish to die - and he did not, very much so - but how?

His lovely dolls had all exited the room upon the arrival of this strange new 'woman,' no doubt to give them some alone time together so that the Duke may romance her into blissful oblivion just as they had been. He had no weapons on hand, and, should he move to go acquire one, the man would surely notice, and think, what's this, is it not strange for a corpse to be moving? and make a second move, running him through again, and once more.

Not that he wouldn't find a corpse's ability to continue standing properly any stranger. Venomania's hand bled and bled. What to do? He was running out of time, he was _running out of time_ -

the bluenette suddenly stopped shaking, as though he had noticed something, and in that desperate moment, Venomania used the only weapon in his arsenal.

Crash! With the force of a cannonball, he slammed his lips against those of his attempted killer, ignoring in desperate fearful panic the fact that he was really kissing another man.

The receiver of the kiss flailed, and in Venomania's peripheral vision he could see the knife raised again, _dammit_ , faster, faster, _faster_ , he felt the bitter sweet poison drip from the back of his throat, quickly, _quickly_ into the mouth of the man who's attack had been ceased once more, Venomania grabbing the wrist of the knife-wielding arm and _squeezing_ , despite the burning rush of painful needles inside the bloodied cuts of his hand.

He pulled away just as suddenly as he had rushed in, hoping, _praying_ , that had been enough to, at the very least, slow his attacker's thoughts. Get him dreary-minded enough so that his mind fogs, maybe he won't remember what he was here to do, ah yes, ah yes...

Venomania recognized the dazed look that appeared in the man's eyes with relief. Just enough of his spell to daze him. The littler man stepped back, Venomania's hand not releasing his wrist although loosening his grip, and from his soft, painted lips he asked, "...Why did you do that?"

"Um..." Think fast, think fast. Very gently, he tried to pry the man's fingers off of the knife, however not succeeding, his grip was still too _tight_ , dammit. Damn it all, it was only a little bit of poison, and the spell won't keep unless his sleeps with his victim, argh, it's going to wear off...

A terribly ugly idea was swishing around in the back of his brain fluid. He did not want to do it, he did not want to do _it_ , with a _man_...

But desperate times, and desperate measures. He recalled distantly and almost crazily a time in which he was desperate of hunger, and alas, alas, there were no women close by to sate such a hunger. In that putrid yellow moment he had done the last thing that sounded appealing: he had taken with a horse... it was foul, and a dreadfully unpleasant experience, but he finished satisfied nonetheless.

Well. A man is not so different from a horse, is he?

Licking his lips with the look of a snake, Venomania whispered lavishly, draping a cautious arms across the small man's back, acutely aware of the knife still in said man's possession. "...I'm afraid I could not help myself from enjoying such a moment, I was so entranced by your beauty." Using his other hand to tilt the man's head upwards, he placed another succulent drizzle atop his lips.

However the man pulled away. "I-I can't! I have a wife! I have... I have I wife I need to be looking for." He huffed, running his one empty hand over the front of his bodice, and smoothing out the skirt.

"Oh? Your wife, you say?" Well, that would certainly explain the attempted murder.

"...Yes. She's... been taken, I'm sure of it. By the man... in the forest." He made an attempt to leave, and Venomania almost let him, except that he wasn't that foolish.

"The man in the forest?" He inquired. He slid his arms back around the man, and stopped his hand just over his ass, almost in awe of how plump it was, for a man.

The bluenette's cheeks flushed, heady and unknowing. "He took her... I'm sure of it. So, uh, if you'll excuse me..." Venomania ran his lips over his again, quickly, and he jumped at the sudden contact.

"My lovely, there's no need to rush. In all my time of living in this forest I've never encountered a man who stole away other people's wives." Venomania's voice was like satin, and he chose his words carefully. Spun them around, and around, a story perfect and concocted on a whim, all in a matter of certain seconds. "Though now that you mention it, I do recall seeing a woman deep in the forest the other day," He took a gamble. "picking mushrooms."

He smirked when the blue-haired man's eyes widened and he stepped away to look Venomania in the face. "T-That was her!" Right on the money.

Gently he took a hold of the smaller man's wrists, turning his body so that the bluenette's back was pressed against his chest. "Then fear not, my sweet, for I spoke to that such woman upon seeing her. 'You should not be this deep in the forest,' I warned her, and she gratefully heeded my advice. She turned back, towards the direction of the town. It takes a few days to get through all of the forest, you know. I'm sure by now, she's at home, cooking, with no idea what a," He inhaled against the bluenette's neck, eliciting a quiet, but very telling, moan. " _naughty boy_ her husband is being."

Deciding with some distasteful hesitation to finally take charge, Venomania dug through the many ruffles of the long skirt until he could work his hand under it, running his slender fingers up and against the man's long, surprisingly smooth leg.

"A-ah... I should get back to her, then, shouldn't I? This is... wrong." He hung his head low in shame.

"It is not so wrong, my love, to engage in the human pleasures of life." Venomania reassured, bowing down between those silky spindle legs. He wasn't sure what to think when he saw that this man was wearing women's panties beneath his skirt, but tried to hide his disgust when he noticed the masculinely long bulge bunched up into a compact circle inside them. Shuddering, he looked back down at the legs themselves (he could convince himself he was doing this to a woman, he supposed, looking only at those fine legs), running his tongue up the shin, trailing a sticky-sweet line all the way up to the knee.

"H-ah...! B-But we're... both men... D-don't you - ahn! realize that...?" He was heady, completely under Venomania's spell. The loosening of his grip on the knife did not go unnoticed.

Venomania chewed gently on the man's inner thigh, applying pressure and more _pressure_ until the skin darkened with a sickening bruise. He pressed his mouth back on the buttery flesh and whispered huskily against it, "Don't think that way; the rules and thoughts of the outside world matter not, this deep in the forest."

He took one last moment to compose himself, curtained in by the long, ruffled skirt, in the quiet of that space. His almost-killer's quiet slips of pleasured noises bubbled up in the air outside, but in here, it was quiet. Finally, he swallowed his disgust and he swallowed his pride. Venomania tugged the panties lightly, and let gravity finish the work for him.

Immediately the bluenette's hard cock sprang to life, pressing against the layers of the skirt's fabric, almost comically trying to break free into the open air. It was nearly in the direct line of Venomania's eyesight, and he had to breathe a little, heavy, to compose his mind, before he began his work.

He wanted _nothing_ to do with another man's fuckstick, so nothing he did. With an impressive amount of strength he grabbed the blue-haired man's ankles and hoisted the man's legs into the air, using the wall he was pressed up against as support. This gave him premium access to his prize.

A swirly, soft, ruby little jewel that he had enjoyed in women many a time, puckered out toward him as though awaiting a kiss. His ran his tongue against its fleshy petals daringly, and the man above him keened in a high-pitched wail.

Swirling and swirling, lapping up the flavours until the strong wet muscle finally broke through the defense and popped inside. He pushed it in, and out, and ran the flat top along the velvety walls that line the squishy tunnel. In his decrepit mind his imagined a woman, lovely and soft-skinned, until he himself finally got hard, his cock brilling to life inside his breeches.

Pushing more pressure against the man's ankles, he pushed the legs wider and raised them higher, so that he may stand to life against this formidable foe. The blue-haired man's arms were raised against the wall, his head leaning back and watery grave hair spilling across his face like a rain shower, eyes closed in tight ecstasy and mouth hanging open, long pillars of saliva bringing together his painted, plump lips.

Venomania undid his belt and pushed down his pants, his own cock cutting through the air like a sword, mirroring the detestful image he had seen not so long ago. Locating the target once more, he readied his aim, and fired.

"K-Kah-! A-Annh!" The pinned man billowed out as Venomania almost melted himself, now seated inside a throne more plush and pink than that atop which sat the King himself. He was so caught up in the initial blitzkrieg-style success that he had nearly forgotten to finish his attack strategy. But he regained his bearings, and set himself to work. He shot, he fired. He filled that tiny hole with grenades, exploding in a wave of sound, as the bluenette cried and cried.

As the process continued he soon found he was beginning to reach his peak, pressure building so deep in his core he could nearly feel the atom bombs. With a final warcry he launched, nuclear missile straight into the hard little button within and coating the world inside with milky white, heating encompassing him as comfort warmed him like a blanket.

Not yet pulling out, he watched as the man before him seemed to build himself, and build, and build until, "A-ah! I-I'm going to-!"

The knife clattered to the floor.

Venomania did not waste any time. In his bending down to reach for the object, he involuntarily pulled out, and the bluenette, who had been using his engorged cock as a means of balance, collapsed on the floor himself, his saphiric eyes breaking wide into cut diamonds with fresh disorientation and pain. Those same eyes grew even wider yet and Venomania raised his arm, and - yes!

No mistakes. Venomania watched as he pierced the knife through, cutting past the smooth fabric of the man's bodice and into the flesh, past the iron-molten bones and through and through! Into his heart!

The bluenette let out an animalistic squeak as his pressed his hand against the object imbedded in his chest - the same one he himself had taked from the butcher's shop in hopes of killing the man in the forest.

Crim's eyes watered. The man in the forest... this was him, wasn't it? Slowly, slowly, the world faded to black.

Collecting himself, Venomania stood. What a mess. Surely, this would be a pain to clean. Well, of course he had no place doing such filthy work himself. Walking away, and abandoning the man's dying, bleeding corpse in his own hallway, he made a mental note to remind his dolls that he had a mess for them to clean, later.

.

.

_Finale._

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I find it entirely necessary to point out how incredibly difficult it was writing Third Person POV porn between two men without either of them ever exchanging names with each other.


End file.
